Broken Hearts
by Eowyn6
Summary: What if true love, forged by fate, is forced apart by circumstances? Pairing Thranduil & Celebrían ... third chapter online. Please review.
1. A Fateful Meeting

Disclaimers: All characters are J.R.R. Tolkien's, well; I'm playing with their feelings a bit :) I'm not writing to make any profit but for writing's sake, and because I love the world of Middle-Earth.  
  
Notes: Spin-off to "Crossroads".  
  
A/N: Even though it is not stated anywhere, in my verse Oropher and Thranduil were fighting in the Battle of the Last Alliance and Oropher lost his life - making Thranduil King of Mirkwood. For the sake of the story, I made Elrond a bit arrogant, at least outwardly. The year right now is 109 of the Third Age. The parents of our favourite 3 brothers of Lórien left Arda about 4 years ago for the Undying Lands (for no particular reason, they just longed to see Valinor *grin*), and the brothers were taken in by Galadriel and Celeborn. Haldir is around 300 years of age, Orophin about 100 and Rúmil 12. Oh, and Legolas is 108 :) Forgot someone, Celebrían is around 650...  
  
Translation of Elvish: Calen Glad - Greenwood, elvish name of Mirkwood. Peredhel - half-elven; Elrond and Elros were called the Peredhil as they the sons of a mortal man and an elf. Ada - father. Nana - mother.  
  
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Broken Hearts  
  
Chapter 1 - A Fateful Meeting  
  
Thranduil was urging his stallion down the bank of Nimrodel. He had only just arrived in Lórien and already he wished to leave. The welcome had been more or less friendly, until he had appeared. Only one glance at Elrond and he was cursing himself for accepting the invitation of the Lord and Lady of the Wood. But it had seemed to be of great importance. It had to be, or else he would have never been invited.  
  
Upon receiving the invitation, he had hoped for a short moment that finally Galadriel and Celeborn had understood. That he was not his father, that he was not Oropher. Oropher, the late King of Calen Glad, who fell in the Battle of the Last Alliance. Setting his son free and binding him to his fate in the same moment. Even in death could he force his will upon Thranduil. The young prince had never wished for the crown, but now he was King. Just like he had never wanted to marry for any reason but for love.  
  
But he had never complained; there was no one to confide in anyway. His mother had left for Valinor when Thranduil was but a little elfling. His only friend was a young girl, the daughter of a wealthy and influential courtier. Had his father tried to please him when he had forced the two of them to marry? Serinde was in his heart, but from the first moment on it was clear that their marriage was overshadowed by a dark cloud. His bride had given her heart to another elf, a warrior, proud and fearless. So very different from the Prince. Thranduil had sworn to protect him in battle, and had failed. He fell, at the hands of the Dark Lord himself.  
  
When he returned, now as the King of Mirkwood, he had found his wife almost mad with grief. Somehow Thranduil had been able to fend off Mandos, and after only a year the cry of a small baby echoed through the Caverns. The small, blue-eyed boy had claimed his parent's hearts at once and they vowed never to repeat Oropher's mistakes. Legolas had soon become his mother's greatest joy and his father's greatest pride. The Woodland-elves cheered. At last a just king sat on the throne.  
  
But no one else seemed to see this. The Lord and Lady of Lórien beheld the likeness between Oropher and his son and did not try to see any further. As for Imladris... After Gil-galad's death, Elrond took over the rule of the Last Homely House. And the Peredhel hated Thranduil. That much had been obvious the few times both rulers were forced to meet. Over the years, Elrond's feelings became mutual, which parted Mirkwood and Lothlórien even more. The Lord and Lady had apparently taken a likening to the half-elf and treated him like a son.  
  
Still, that did not give Elrond the right to walk around as if he owned the place. The way he ordered the servants in the Royal Talan around was unbelievable. As was the way he looked down upon the King of Mirkwood. He was not even completely of the noble blood that was flowing through Thranduil's veins. Half-elven, half indeed. And still he was master of hundreds of elves, called upon by those who needed counsel, a wise healer and proud warrior in one.  
  
Thranduil hated to admit it, but he had always wanted to gain a status similar to Elrond's amongst his people. But everyone outside his realm only saw him like they had seen his father: the wicked King of a dismal place. And that it was, especially with the shadow that had once again taken hold of Dol Guldur. Orcs were multiplying and destroyed everything he and his people had built over the last century. He knew that once he returned it would not be long until he had to lead yet another campaign again the dark tower in the south of his kingdom. With the same result it always had. Hundreds of orcs would be killed, and still the elves would only win narrowly, if it was to be called a victory at all.  
  
How many times had he sent word to Celeborn about this threat? After all, Dol Guldur was not far from the borders of Lórien. But the Lord kept silent. Why would he not combine forces with Mirkwood? Maybe together they would be able to overthrow evil. No, Celeborn rather sent his hosts to aid Elrond's forces against the goblins of the Misty Mountains.  
  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely saw the group of young elf- maidens a little further down the river. Only the clear laughter of one of them woke him from his reverie. As if they had a will of their own, his eyes centred on the young she-elf. Never before had he seen such pure beauty. Long golden hair framed a gentle face, the sound of her laughter warming his heart.  
  
Quickly he dismounted and took the reigns, leading his horse down the slope. The young maidens were about to leave, it seemed, and already he began to wonder how he could see the beautiful creature again, whose innocent joy had moved his very soul. But suddenly, as if someone had called her name, she turned. Steel-grey eyes drowned in the depth of the sea. What had seemed like a waste of time had in just a moment become of vital importance to him. His journey to Lórien had a reason now, and it had nothing to do with Celeborn and Galadriel's oh-so-important plans.  
  
A soft smile played around her lips, and she seemed unable to move. One of her companions reached her side, trying to wake her from daydreaming. "My Lady, we have to return. The feast..." And far too soon did she turn from his gaze, lowering her eyes in a shy gesture that was most endearing in Thranduil's eyes.  
  
As she moved away with her friends, he felt an urge to run after her, ask for her name. He had to see her again, preferably alone. Who was this vision that touched him in places he had not even known existed. Why was a quick glance at her causing this ache in his chest? Watching her leave, he suddenly recalled her companion's words. A smile spread over his face. The feast, he would see her at the feast tonight.  
  
---  
  
A small elfling was running towards the riverbank. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked like misery personified. Just a few minutes ago he had almost run into the Lady Celebrían, who was on her way back to Caras Galadhon. Unable to speak, he had just turned and run away. Finally he reached the shore of Nimrodel, throwing himself down upon the soft grass.  
  
His eldest brother had just informed his family that he had been accepted into the ranks of the March Wardens of the Golden Wood. He would be away for weeks or even months at a time. It was not fair, first had he lost his parents, or as everyone told him they had gone west, whatever that meant. And now he would lose his brother.  
  
His eyes were closed and his mind busy pitying himself. So he did not hear the soft steps approaching him and was startled when a soft voice spoke to him, "What is wrong, little one?" He opened his watery eyes to behold a tall elf that he had only seen once before. 'He is one of those foreign guests of Aunt Galadriel,' the small boy mused. "What is your name?" the elf asked.  
  
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Finally he ventured to answer, "I am called Rúmil. And who are you?" Grey eyes sparkled with amusement and the soft voice replied, "Thranduil. I am Thranduil." The tall elf lowered himself to the grass and soon sat next to the elfling who stared at him in awe. "That armour, is that mithril? Uncle Celeborn has one just like it..."  
  
Uncle Celeborn? Did Galadriel or Celeborn have any siblings he did not know of? "Yes, it is made of mithril as well." How could he find out what he wanted without startling the little boy? "Well, Rúmil. Will you tell me why you are so sad?" Rúmil pursed up his lips, and almost started to cry again. "It is because of Hal. He is going away. He does not like me. Now he is leaving, just like ada and nana."  
  
"I am sure he likes you. But who is this Hal?" Rúmil stared with big blue eyes. "Hal is my brother. He is going to be a March Warden. But I do not want him to go..." He started to weep again, and Thranduil instantly wrapped his arms around him. "Where are your parents gone?" In-between his sobs, Rúmil murmured something that sounded like, 'west'. So his parents had sailed to Valinor, and Rúmil thought they had gone because of him.  
  
"They left me, Hal and Oro with Aunt Galadriel, Uncle Celeborn and Celebrían. But she is always so mean to me. Just now they were laughing at me when I met them in the woods. Hal and Oro have defended me until now. But Hal has grown bored of it and is now going away. And Oro will be gone soon as well. He wants to join the Guardians. Nobody likes me..."  
  
Gently Thranduil placed a finger under the elfling's chin, forcing his face up and finally their eyes locked. "Oh, I think they like you very much, Rúmil. Maybe not as you are right now..." Rúmil's eyes were red and puffy from crying, his braids were loosened and little twigs and leaves were hanging in his long hair. "Your brothers only leave you because they want to protect your home, and you of course. One day you might also want to join the Guardians, do you not think that would be nice?"  
  
Rúmil reminded him of Legolas, the first time Thranduil had to leave his son fighting against an orc-host from Dol Guldur. His son had also been in tears, clinging to his father's robes, unwilling to let go. But just like Legolas had finally come to understand the necessity, Rúmil would do so, too. Eventually. The elfling nodded slowly. "I would like that, I think. And Hal and Oro... You mean, they like me after all?" Thranduil smiled, "Of course they do."  
  
Rúmil drew away and started to gnaw at his nails, apparently deep in thought. "And what about Celebrían. She is always nagging me..." Thranduil chuckled, "She is a girl, is she not. I am sure a great warrior like you can defend himself against a mere woman." He reached for the clasps of his cloaks, opening them. "Stand," he instructed the young elfling. Rúmil quickly scrambled to his feet, eying Thranduil curiously.  
  
The King threw the cloak around Rúmil's thin shoulders and fasted it. "See, now you are a true soldier. And this Celebrían cannot make fun of you anymore..." Of course, the way the cloak hung around the tiny form of Rúmil simply asked for laughter. It was far too long, and the elfling had to hold it up in an attempt not to stumble over the hem.  
  
Only now did he finally comprehend everything. Rúmil had run into Celebrían on her way back to Caras Galadhon. Then this must mean that his vision of beauty and the teasing she-elf out of Rúmil's nightmares were one and the same person. Celebrían, daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel. His life apparently did not seem complicated enough to the Valar and they had just set out on a mission to make it even more confusing to him.  
  
Rúmil was still walking around in circles, trying to appear dignified but failing miserably. The sun was beginning to sink and Thranduil remembered the nightly feast. "Well, my proud soldier. We should return to the city now. Do you wish to ride with me?" Rúmil's eyes grew even bigger at the prospect of riding on the beautiful horse that was currently grassing on the slope. He hoped from one foot to the other, almost bouncing with joy. "Yes, I should like that very much..."  
  
---  
  
When they reached the southern gate of the city, two elves awaited them. Both were clad in the grey and black of the Guardians and one, the elder it seemed, approached the riders. "Rúmil, we have been searching all over for you. Forgive me, my Lord, if he has proven himself the nuisance he is..." Thranduil halted him by raising a hand, "Actually I enjoyed meeting our little soldier here. It has been my pleasure." Rúmil turned and grinned at him. "Thanks," he whispered and jumped off the horse.  
  
Seeing the cloak around his brother's shoulders, the second elf spoke up, "Rúmil, give back the cloak. I am sure Lord Thranduil will want it back." Tears shot into Rúmil's eyes as he raised his hands to the clasps. "No, my friend. It was a gift. Keep it..." A grin was suddenly plastered on the elfling's face, and he drew the cloak around his figure again.  
  
Suddenly, a clear voice called out of nowhere, "Haldir, Orophin! The Lord and Lady wish to see you. As for you Rúmil, why were you running away from me this afternoon?" The young elf-maiden from the river appeared, glaring at the elfling. Only then did she behold the proud stallion and his rider. Her eyes widened and their gazes locked once again.  
  
"My Lady," Thranduil inclined his head, "I fear he was not at all his charming self and did not intend to bother you with his problems." Both Haldir and Orophin shot their little brother looks that were clearly saying, 'What in Arda have you told him?' Only Celebrían could not turn her eyes from the Mirkwood King, who was just dismounting. "He was afraid you would leave him and did not like him. I told him that it was not so."  
  
Haldir kneeled by Rúmil's side and embraced the once again trembling form. "Do not cry, little one. Do you not know that I would never leave you, not really... You are my little brother, not just my younger..." Both began to chuckle, eyes turned to Orophin, who was by far the tallest of the three. He just shook his head and decided to overhear the joke.  
  
Celebrían had apparently found her voice again and asked, "My Lord, are you returning to the Royal Talan? Would it trouble you very much to take me there with you?" In place of an answer, Thranduil extended his hand to her and helped her on the horse, mounting behind her. Turning to the three brothers, Celebrían said, "Do not forget the Lord and Lady. And Rúmil," the boy stared at her, lips pursed again, "You will be a great warrior when your time comes."  
  
Both guardians bowed, and Haldir spoke, "Thank you, my Lord. For bringing him back to us." Rúmil winked at the King, and waved, "Bye Thranduil, thank you for the nice cloak..."  
  
---  
  
Thranduil? Thranduil, King of Calen Glad? But he was supposed to be mean and evil. This elf, who currently held her in his arms was everything but that. He had taken care of Rúmil who could easily make her lose her temper. And on the bank, for that one, fleeting moment, he had filled her heart with a yearning she had never known before.  
  
She turned her head and gazed into his gentle, grey eyes. "So you are Oropher's son, are you not?" Something within him seemed to snap and his eyes suddenly turned cold. "Yes, I am. Oropher's son indeed." She felt the hurt in his voice and shook her head, "His son, but not Oropher himself. You seem to be everything your father was not, no matter what everyone says. He would never have given such a valuable cloak to a twelve-year-old. Especially not Rúmil..."  
  
Deep blue eyes that spoke nothing but the truth. Thranduil saw himself in them, not an image of his father. "He reminds me of my own son, Legolas. Besides, no cloak could ever be worth more than the laughter of a child..." Celebrían studied his face and then lowered her eyes. What was this feeling in the pit of her stomach. As if thousands of butterflies were flying around in her veins...  
  
Too soon they reached the stables. Apparently, all servants were busy preparing for the festivities in the evening and so no stable-hand was around. The King jumped off the horse and then offered Celebrían his hand. She was almost gliding from the horseback and into his arms. At first she was startled, as was he, but then she turned and met his eyes again. Before either of them knew what had happened, their lips had found their counterpart. Only for a moment did they meet, then Celebrían drew away.  
  
"My Lord," she whispered, eyes wide, "What is happening?" Then, as if she finally realized what she had just done, she broke free and ran to the stairs of the talan. Before she began the ascend, she turned again and smiled. Thranduil knew that he would never forget the way she looked just then. As he saw her disappear from view, he felt that one door had closed behind him, but another had opened before him. Where it would lead him, he did not know... 


	2. Destined to Be

Disclaimers: All characters are J.R.R. Tolkien's, well; I'm playing with their feelings a bit :) I'm not writing to make any profit but for writing's sake, and because I love the world of Middle-Earth.  
  
Notes: Spin-off to "Crossroads".  
  
Translation of Elvish: Ada - father. Nana - mother. Melethron nín - my lover. Calen Glad - Greenwood, elvish name of Mirkwood. Peredhel - half- elven. Anor - the sun.  
  
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Broken Hearts  
  
Chapter 2 - Destined to Be  
  
"Please Hal, can I go?" For the fifth time in less then two minutes, Rúmil was asking the same question. The answer remained unchanged, though. However, by now Haldir was getting angry at the tiny elfling. "I strongly advise you to cease being a nag, Rúmil. You know very well that you are still too young to attend a gathering like tonight's feast. So stop asking and get yourself to bed."  
  
Lips pursed, Rúmil turned on his heels, almost stumbling over the hem of his new cloak and marched off. Orophin, who had witnessed the exchange in silence, now addressed the March Warden. "You could have been kinder. He simply wants to spend time with the two of us. You cannot hold this against him. When Ada and Nana went west..." Impatient, Haldir cut him short, "...we became his sole family. I know that! But that is no excuse for his behaviour. I cannot remember you acting like this. Like a spoiled child..."  
  
"Well, if he is spoiled, we are to blame," Orophin said with a smile. "And of course Celeborn and Galadriel, who treat him like their own son..." At the mentioning of the Lady of the Wood, Orophin's eyes began to shine as if a fire had been kindled within him. Haldir just shook his head. Part of him wanted to warn his brother that his infatuation had not gone unnoticed, but another part was eager to see how Orophin was going to embarrass himself in the future.  
  
Before he could comment on Orophin's remark, the noise of footsteps outside announced a visitor. A moment later long a radiant she-elf was standing in front of the two brothers, extending her hand towards Haldir. "You said I should pick you up for the feast, melethron nín. Here I am." Anduriel was shining like a star, but there was no warmth in her gaze when it fell upon Haldir's brother. "Oh, and you are also expected, meldiramin. Galadriel's ladies appear to be in need of you..."  
  
At hearing this, Orophin brushed past them and ran down the stairs of their family's talan. Once he was out of earshot, Haldir asked, "What do they have in mind this time? I begin to wonder if I should not enlighten him..." Slender arms wrapped themselves around his neck, drawing him in for a short kiss. "I think you should leave him be, Haldir. He himself brought this upon him."  
  
Strong, but gentle hands cupped her face, lips brushing for just a moment. "Maybe you are right. Anyway, I think we have to..." He never finished his sentence. Anduriel had taken hold of his hand and began to drag him after her to his bedroom. "I think there is still time for this, do you not agree?" In place of an answer, Haldir spun her around, leaning in for an urgent kiss. "Yes, I thought as much..."  
  
---  
  
Once Anduriel had been send away, Míriel once again turned to the elf- maiden next to her. "Well, my Lady. I guess he should be here any moment now. I almost pity him; almost..." Mirth was evident in her dark blue eyes, but Celebrían did not feel like joining in the fun. True, she had been the one to plan tonight's "entertainment". However, her mind had since then become preoccupied with other, more pressing matters...  
  
---  
  
When she had left Thranduil in the stables, she had not returned to her rooms as had been her intend. As if in a trance her feet had led her into a small glade not far from the Royal Talan. The very glade where her mother's Mirror stood. In a dreamlike fashion she filled the basin with fresh spring water and then, when she deemed herself alone and unwatched, she motioned to look into the Mirror.  
  
At first, she had seen naught but her own face. However, after a moment, a different image had replaced her reflection. She saw a proud warrior; long, golden hair framing his gentle face, silver eyes gazing into the distance. Suddenly a smile spread over his features, making his eyes gleam like the purest mithril. He reached out, and only now did Celebrían become aware of the second person. A maiden, her hand now lying in his, smiled at him.  
  
The maiden was none other than Celebrían herself. And the warrior... Her hand flew to her heart. It was Thranduil. The two figures were kissing now, gently and unhurried. Why was her heart aching all of a sudden? Why did feelings she had never known claim her whole being? The kiss seemed to deepen, and, unbeknownst by the two, a soft light encompassed them. 'Sweet Elbereth...' It could not be. She had only met him. But there was no way of misunderstanding what she saw.  
  
So fixed was her gaze on the kissing couple, that she did not see the dark shadow that had started to envelope them. Only when it had grown fingers and took hold of her image in the Mirror, only when it drew her away from Thranduil did she become aware of it. Too late... The shadow surrounded her and then it was gone, together with her, leaving Thranduil on his own. He dropped to his knees, his head buried in his hands. But when he raised his head again, his eyes had lost their sparkle and were dull. And deep within them she could see pain, and suffering, and a coldness that almost turned her heart to ice.  
  
Another figure emerged, a young version of the King. Legolas? Yes, it could be no other but Thranduil's son. He put his hand onto his father's shoulder, and she was shocked to see Thranduil get to his feet and spin around, prying Legolas' hand from where it was resting. Thranduil turned around and walked away, and Legolas was alone. Alone to face the dark shadow that now threatened to swallow him...  
  
With a scream, Celebrían stepped back from the Mirror. 'No, this cannot be. Please no.' But then she remembered her mother's words: "The Mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and some things that may yet come to pass..." So this was only one possible future. And she set her mind to do everything in her power to make it not come true.  
  
---  
  
"Oh, there he is..." Míriel's voice woke her from her reverie, and, her heart beating faster, Celebrían's eyes fixed on ... Orophin. "Are you coming, my lady?" Míriel motioned for Celebrían to get up and follow her, but she only shook her head. "No, you go alone. I am sure you will manage on your own, without me..."  
  
"As you wish." With a bow, Míriel turned to where the young Guardian was already surrounded by young girls. The plan had to be set into motion after all.  
  
No, Celebrían would not join the fun today. She needed to see... Yes, she needed to see him. How was it possible for him to capture her heart in so short a time? Someone was approaching her from behind. 'Elbereth, let it be him.' But the voice that addressed her was not Thranduil's. "Dearest Celebrían," Elrond. It was only Elrond. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the table?"  
  
She knew what she had to do, her mother had told her again shortly before Elrond had arrived in Caras Galadhon. Turning to meet his eyes, she smiled and put her hand in his. "Of course, my Lord. It shall be my pleasure to do so." The self-righteous smile that appeared on the face of the Peredhel made her want to hit him, and hit him hard. Shifting her gaze away from him, it fell upon the elf who had just appeared in their midst.  
  
Gentle silver eyes met hers, and once again her heart beat so fast that she feared it would break free from the confines of her chest. No, these eyes could never be cold, never lack this fire that seemed to burn inside of him. And now he was approaching them, eyes ever fixed upon her. She felt Elrond stiffen next to her. So the rumours were true. The Lord of Imladris despised the King of Calen Glad for some reason. Not that she minded right now.  
  
Disregarding the half-elf, she said, "My Lord, we were just about to join the others on the high table. Will you come with us?" Thranduil's smile was warming her, touching her very soul. This warmth could never turn to freezing ice, never. The King nodded and offered her his arm. When she took it, a small voice was justifying her actions. After all, Thranduil was a guest of the Lord and Lady just like Elrond. And was it not her duty to entertain their guests? Chuckling to herself she remembered just how she had entertained Thranduil earlier that day. And as she remembered his lips upon hers, she longed to throw her arms around his neck and cover his mouth with hers...  
  
---  
  
Orophin's eyes seemed glued to Galadriel, oblivious of his surroundings. Oblivious, too, of the group of elf-maidens that was whispering behind his back. They were discussing tonight's little charade and congratulated the current impostor for her performance.  
  
It had been Míriel's task to impersonate her Lady tonight. A mask covering her face, she had waited for Orophin in a secluded corner of the gardens around the Royal Talan. As always, another of Galadriel's companions had led the lovesick Guardian to "the Lady". He had knelt by her side, his head resting upon her knee. Words of love tumbled from his mouth, later accompanied by chaste kisses to the back of her hand. Míriel still could not explain what had made her cup his head in her hand and slowly lower her head to his. But the moment, the short moment their lips had met had sent sparks up and down her body. Quickly she had left the confused Orophin behind to join her friends again.  
  
Her friends that were by now discussing who should be impersonating their Lady next time. They were laughing at Orophin as he gazed longingly at Galadriel. But for some reason, Míriel did not join them in their laughter tonight. Her fingers stole to her mouth where she could still feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips.  
  
Slowly she moved away, fighting against the urge to turn her gaze back to the young Guardian. 'Do not be a fool, Míriel. He is but a young elfling...' But in her heart she knew that was not true. It had been Orophin, not Haldir, who had been the driving power behind the brother's return to their family's talan only a few months ago. And it had been Orophin, who decided to become a Guardian at this young age. Serious Orophin, whose childhood had ended many years ago.  
  
Something that she was not able to say about his dearest brothers. First of all there was Haldir, who had arrived with Anduriel not too long ago. He was always following his emotions and could be wilful and stubborn. And Rúmil, who drove everyone crazy by pouting because of the smallest things. However, a sulking Rúmil was so endearing that no one could ever be angry with him for a long time. It seemed that Orophin alone had inherited his parents' thoughtfulness.  
  
What was she doing? Thinking about Orophin, Orophin the lovesick puppy! The gentle voice that suddenly filled her mind startled her. "So you finally discovered your heart, young Míriel? I am glad... Orophin is a worthy partner for you..." How was it possible that Galadriel knew everything about everyone? Somewhere at the back of her mind, a voice whispered, 'But he does not even notice me...'  
  
Galadriel's low chuckle filled her with warmth, "Oh, but he will, my child. The kiss you bestowed upon him tonight has unsettled him. A part of him feels that I would not have done that." Elbereth, she knew! Of course she did, but was she angry? "No, Míriel. I let it happen, because I knew that good would come from it... Why do you not tell him to meet me again tomorrow afternoon? In the garden once more? But do not tell anyone else..." With that, the presence of Galadriel was gone, leaving a thoroughly disturbed Míriel behind.  
  
---  
  
"My Lady Celebrían? Would you do me the honour to walk with me in the garden for a while? The night is too beautiful to miss..." The feast was over, but Elrond apparently did not wish to part yet. 'No, I do not wish to go anywhere with you. However...' Smiling, she nodded, and then turned to Thranduil. "Will you join us again, my Lord?"  
  
For one moment, Celebrían thought he would accept. But then his eyes came to rest on the Peredhel, and he shook his head, "I am afraid I have to decline your kind offer. The day has been long, and I feel I need to rest. It will not be long until Anor claims his place in the sky again..." Gently he took her hand and raised it to his lips. And then he was gone, and she was alone with Elrond.  
  
---  
  
"My Lord, would you mind if I were to retire? The feast must have tired me more that I believed at first..." When Elrond turned to face her, she almost forgot how to breathe. He seemed ... concerned. His blue eyes, usually so cold and distant, were warm as they met her gaze. "Of course not, my Lady. Forgive me for retaining you so long." He leaned closer and softly brushed his lips over her forehead. "Go and rest. I shall linger for a while yet."  
  
---  
  
Thranduil had returned to his chambers, and was now lying on the soft bedding. In his hands was a lock of soft blond hair, which he raised to his face and smelled. Sparkling water of the Forest River. The musky scent of the moss that covered the forest floor. The fragrance of little flowers from the gardens around the Caverns. 'Serinde. Forgive me...' She would understand, would even encourage him to do as his heart commanded him. His heart...  
  
Had he ever known it could beat like this? He had only just met Celebrían, and already he felt drawn to her. 'Did you feel the same when first you saw him, dearest wife? Did you also feel the need to be with him no matter what happened?' What had kept them apart? The same elf who was now trying to gain access to Celebrían. That much was obvious. "Curse you, Elrond!" So much could be different now had the half-elf kept his mouth shut. He might still be alive...  
  
Futile thoughts. There was no way to turn back time. Not that he wanted to do so anymore. Had he not married Serinde, he would not have Legolas, the greatest gift his wife could have given to him. His beloved son...  
  
He barely heard the soft knock on the door, but when he did, he quickly got to his feet to answer the door. As soon as it opened, his eyes met with the deep blue ones of Celebrían. "Forgive me, my Lord, if I disturbed you, but..." Obviously she was trying hard to find the right words to express her feelings, feelings that were evident in those deep pools that seemed to drown Thranduil.  
  
Beckoning for her to come inside, he closed the door behind her. "Did Elrond bore you so soon? Or did you simply wish to be somewhere else?" 'Flattering yourself now? Why would she wish to be here with you?' But Celebrían nodded, whispering, "I do not know why, my Lord. But I needed to..." Drawing a deep breath, she continued, "I know I must seem foolish to you. I am sorry I..." She motioned to leave, but was stopped by strong arms, wrapping themselves around her lithe body.  
  
"My actions are improper, I know, my Lady. If you wish me to stop, one word of you and I will stay away, no matter how hard it might be." Raising her hand, she gently moved it through his golden hair. Liquid silk. She trembled in his embrace. Her other hand came to rest on his marble chest, his heart beating against her palm. So warm, so full of life.  
  
Slowly, giving her every chance to break away, he lowered his head to hers. Jolts of fire seared through his body as soon as their lips met for the second time. However, this time she was not only returning the kiss, but deepened it. Her mouth opened under his, granting access before he even asked for it. He could not hold back a low growl when their tongues touched. Exploring the moist cave of her mouth, tasting her, caressing her. All his confusion he put into that one kiss, feeling her melt in his arms.  
  
'Elbereth, never let him stop,' she prayed silently. She knew it was supposed to be impossible, but she could almost feel how mystified he was by both their actions. 'Just like I am...'  
  
Lack of air finally forced them to end the kiss, and, resting her head against his shoulder, Celebrían whispered, "What are we to do now?" Unable to find an answer, Thranduil just drew her closer, holding her tightly. His chin resting on the top of her head, he murmured into her hair, "I do not know. But we shall find a way..." 


	3. Good Intentions

Disclaimer: All characters are J.R.R. Tolkien's, well; I'm playing with their feelings a bit :) I'm not writing to make any profit but for writing's sake, and because I love the world of Middle-Earth.

Notes: Spin-off to "Crossroads".

A/N: Ereinion is the birth-name of the High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad.

Translation of Elvish: Anor – the sun. Calen Glad - Greenwood, elvish name of Mirkwood. Ada – daddy. Naneth – mother. Nana - mummy. Peredhel – half-elven. Melin chen – I love you. Aye – yes.

Broken Hearts

Chapter 3 – Good Intentions

"Oro, there is someone out there with a message for you..." Rúmil was again mad at his two brothers. Why did they always get messages and he had not received one yet?

Following his elder brother, he caught the last words of the messenger, "...she expects you when Anor begins to sink again." Catching sight of the little elfling, he added, "As for you, little one, you better return that cloak to its rightful owner." In place of an answer, Rúmil stuck his tongue out and turned on his heels.

Unfortunately, Haldir had just entered the talan in that very moment, and now his eyes were flashing angry sparks at his youngest brother. However, before he could turn his attention to the misbehaving child, he had to greet the messenger, who nodded his head. "March Warden, you better take care of educating him," now pointing at Rúmil, who seemed to try to disappear into thin air. An angry Haldir was not to be trifled with; he had already learned that lesson.

And Haldir's response did not bode well. "I shall make it a priority..." The messenger left and Haldir stepped up to Rúmil. "What have we told you, again and again?"

Big blue eyes met his, and the elfling's voice wavered when he answered, "To respect my elders and not let my feelings get the better of me..."

Orophin, who had been in a haze because of Galadriel's message, now closed the distance between himself and his brothers. "Haldir, he did not mean to be rude. It is just that he treasures King Thranduil's gift and..."

Haldir glared, "And when have I asked your opinion, tôr? It is time our baby brother learned some manners anyway..."

Had he just called him _baby brother_?! Well, he was apparently asking for it. Swinging his tiny leg, Rúmil hit Haldir's shin. "I am not a baby anymore," he screamed at the top of his lungs. Haldir, releasing a pained groan, made to grab Rúmil, who, small as he was, easily evaded him, sending his eldest brother to the floor. However, he had forgotten to hold up the hem of his cloak, and thus landed, face first, on the hard wood of the talan.

Orophin, meanwhile, was holding on to the stem of the tree that supported their home above the forest floor, shaking with laughter. Haldir, struggling to his knees, sent an icy glare his way. "And what, pray tell, is so funny?" Turning towards Rúmil, he whispered dangerously, "You will pay for this, you little plague." This was his cue to leave for calmer waters. Holding his bleeding nose, Rúmil stumbled down the stairs and into the Palace Gardens, seeking out someone who could do something about the steady flood of blood that dribbled from between his fingers.

* * *

A gentle breeze was moving the leaves of the tall mallorn tree Thranduil leaned against. All around him, the forest seemed to be whispering to him, lulling him into relaxation and making him forget the question that had troubled him since this morning. Celeborn had hardly graced him with so much as a word, but had asked Elrond to come to his office at some time convenient to the Peredhel. There were matters that needed to be discussed, whatever that meant.

But why had he, Thranduil, been invited if these matters were of no interest to him? He would have left immediately if it were not for other, more pleasant things. Smiling to himself, he recalled the previous night. How perfect Celebrían had fit into his arms, the feeling of her lips on his, the soft scent of Elanor in her hair...

The sound of hurried footsteps made him spin around and once again he found himself in the presence of a crying Rúmil. No, on second glance, he was not crying, but covered his bleeding nose with one hand while the other held up his cloak. Chuckling, Thranduil made his presence known to the tiny elfling who, in turn, shot him a murderous glare. "Not funny, you know?"

Just like Legolas when he had been in his first fight and came running back to his father, nose bleeding and honour in pieces. As he had done then, he now took Rúmil's hand and led him to a small brook that wound its way through the gardens of the Royal Talan. Urging the elfling to sit down, he took the corner of his robes, wetted it in the cool water, and gently cleaned Rúmil's nose. "There you are. No harm done." When he was finished with his ministrations, he sat down beside the child, and, after catching his eyes, asked, "Now, would you tell me what happened?"

Rúmil's eyes widened. Once again Thranduil was willing to listen to him, Haldir's little 'baby brother'! Smiling, he related to the King what had happened between him and his elder brothers, putting extra emphasis on what Haldir had called him. "It was not just of him to do so," the King commented. "You may be young, but no baby anymore. No, you are a little warrior, are you not?"

Chest swelling, Rúmil nodded, "That I am."

* * *

Behind a tree, Celebrían sighed deeply. This was no evil King who had just consoled Rúmil. Thranduil cared deeply about those who were willing to look beyond his title, who did not believe he was Oropher reborn. Once, she had encountered the late King of Calen Glad when he was on a state visit to the Golden Wood, and the coldness that seemed to surround him had almost frozen her every fibre. But Thranduil was warm and gentle. Even though she had only met him only yesterday, she felt more and more drawn to him.

Slowly she moved towards him and Rúmil, a smile spreading over her features as he beheld her. "My Lord," she bowed," Rúmil..." The elfling suddenly looked uneasy again, probably because of her. Well, she had really been rather nasty to him of late. But he had made a habit of showing up at the wrong time in the wrong place. Now she felt how much she had wronged him with her behaviour and vowed to make amends.

"What happened to your nose, little one?" Rúmil shrugged and once again explained what had happened. Before he had finished, Celebrían was shedding tears of glee, her clear laughter filling the air. "Haldir truly deserved this treatment. He thinks himself the centre of the world..." Thranduil shook his head at that, "I think he has shouldered many burdens no one should have to carry at such a young age. I feel for him. No one should be forced into a position like his, no one."

Gazing at the King, Celebrían smiled gently. He was not only talking about Haldir now, but about himself and his father's manipulations. He had been coerced into marrying, had to fight creatures no one in Lórien had ever faced, and thanks to Oropher was thought to be no better than the late King. Tears threatened to well from her eyes, and she turned away to compose herself.

"So, will you protect me from Hal's wrath?" Rúmil's voice cut through the silence. Fixing her gaze once more on Thranduil, Celebrían held her breath. The King had drawn the tiny elfling to himself in a tight embrace and was now softly whispering to him, "No evil shall befall you while I am here. And if that means I have to fend off your brother, I shall do so."

Rúmil was starring into the grey eyes of the elder elf, his mouth opening and closing as if he was lost for words. Eventually he buried his face in the King's robes, and, having turned his head to face Celebrían, his lips formed the word 'ada'. And for the first time, Celebrían cursed his parents for leaving him alone. He was still too young to understand their desire to see Valinor. All he knew was that he had been left behind.

* * *

Orophin was racing to the small glade where Galadriel was waiting for him. He was late, and if the Lady had already left, Haldir would have to pay. Why did his brother had to choose this very afternoon to discuss Rúmil's manners, or lack thereof, with him? It was not as if he, Orophin, could do anything about his youngest brother's behaviour anymore. He would soon be gone where ever the Guards send him. And then, he only now realised, he would no longer been able to see her...

The Lady of the Golden Woods, who had seemed unattainable until recently. Quite recently to be exact. Once again he began to wonder why Galadriel would even see him, young and foolish as he was. But so far she had shown him only kindness, had listened to him, had endured his proclamations of feelings he did not even understand himself. Until last night. Something had been different. That kiss, that soft brush of her lips against his, had shattered his world and build it anew in the same moment. And deep down inside his soul he began to wonder...

Rounding the final corner, he saw her, the object of his adoration. She was sitting on a bench, her back turned towards him. And what had seemed to be the murmuring of the small brook that was flowing by her feet was now clearly her soft voice singing the Lay of Lúthien. It should have seemed odd that a Lady like Galadriel would sing such a lament, but Orophin was past such doubts. He stood still, intoxicated by the sound of her voice.

Slowly Galadriel rose, and turned around, finally realising the presence of another in the glade. Her face, as always, was covered by a mask. Smiling, she extended her hand to him, beckoning him to come closer. The moment his eyes locked with hers, something seemed to pierce his heart. What he saw in the deep pools of his Lady's eyes was confusion and sadness. Had anyone harmed her? Had he himself possibly hurt her without knowing it? "Orophin," she whispered while gazing up at him, "sit with me for a while..."

* * *

The shadows became longer already when Galadriel rose to her feet. Orophin had told her of many things, some of which he had never ever thought of himself. How he felt after their parents had left. What he expected his life to be once he had become a guardian. What he dreamed of... No one had ever been interested in him in such a way, and he knew that he would always treasure that afternoon, even after the day that would come eventually. The day, Galadriel send him away.

But something was strange. Why would his Lady care for such things. Surely she knew most of them already. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not see her bowing down again, her lips seeking out his. Startled, he could not do anything beyond enjoying the gift that was given to him again. Before he could break out of his haze and respond, Galadriel drew back and vanished into the shadows between the tall trees.

His hand flew to his lips, feeling the warmth of her. No, things were very strange indeed. That kiss had been unmistakably passionate, no matter how short-lived it had been. And if there was one thing he knew for sure about his Lady it was that she loved the Lord Celeborn. Her heart belonged with him and none other.

Suddenly, Orophin saw his own folly and cursed himself. He had fallen for something he could never attain, never reach. And something else became apparent. Galadriel had treated him in a different way during their secret meetings than at any other time. Moreover, his feelings had also changed, unbeknownst to him. Last night, when first she had kissed him, his heart had been filled with a warmth he had never felt before, not even around...

But that was impossible. Pulling himself together, he rose and walked towards the talan he shared with his brothers. Rounding a tall mallorn, he suddenly heard a whimper. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sound, and froze. One of his Ladies companions, Míriel was her name, was leaning against a tree, eyes filled with tears. A white mask lay by her feet. The very mask Galadriel had worn only a few minutes ago...

* * *

"My child, your father and I have decided that it is time for you to take a husband. And we have come to the conclusion that there is only one possible mate for you, in the whole of Arda, Lord Elrond of Rivendell." Galadriel beamed at her daughter, but her smile turned to a frown when she saw Celebrían's expression. "Iëll?"

"Naneth, I ... I cannot. Could not possibly marry him. I do not love him. And there is another..." Casting her eyes downwards, her heart remembered gentle silver eyes, strong arms around her, and the softest of lips caressing hers. She knew without doubt that she had fallen for the Woodland King. How could her mother ask her to forsake that?

Galadriel slowly approached her daughter, and slowly placed a hand under her chin. Lifting Celebrían's head, she smiled at her, "We are not asking you to bond with him. Marry him, create a union between our two realms." Drawing a deep breath, she added, "As for the other. I am sure he understands." So her child had finally found love it seemed.

"Are you sure?" Celebrían could hardly believe her ears. Was her mother telling her to marry and still continue an affair? But it might be a perfect solution. After all, Thranduil was married as well and had never begrudged his wife her own relationship. When Galadriel nodded, she asked, "What about Elrond?"

Eyes twinkling, the Lady of the Wood responded, "I see a great love in his life, Iëll. Why should he be opposed to your finding one of your own?" Something was gnawing at the back of her head, but she dismissed it. True, she did not know who her daughter had chosen. However, she trusted her and knew that Celebrían would only elect someone worthy of her affections.

'Oh, I can think of a few reasons, Nana. For one, he hates Thranduil with a passion...' But somehow it would all work out, and she forced down the feeling of dread that welled from her core as she remembered what she had seen in the Mirror the previous day. It would work out.

* * *

"I wish you would give him a chance, Elrond. We had hoped that this time of joy might also be the moment for reconciliations long over-due. Ereinion wished for it as well." Celeborn sighed as Elrond turned away from him at the mentioning of the High King. Why did the Peredhel refuse to listen to reason?

"He bewitched him!" Elrond spat. "It was fate that allowed me to share those last moments with my King. Otherwise it would be Thranduil now who wore Vilya now." His guilt at disregarding his Lord's last wish had turned to hatred from the King of Calen Glad. The more he told himself that Gil-galad had been beguiled by the blond, the more he believed it himself.

Celeborn shook his head, "He was the best friend, Ereinion could have wished for. By marrying Serinde, he enabled our King..."

"Not you as well. He did not do it out of friendship! He was, and still is, a calculating fiend. Just like Oropher was. There is no kind feeling in that mind of his." He had to believe this, because if it was not so... How would he ever be able to face Gil-galad again if Thranduil indeed was the kind and gentle elf he had taken him for?

* * *

Thranduil once again sat opposite of Celebrían, gazing at her. Only vaguely did he hear the words that were spoken by their host. But then... Doom fell upon him. "It is with the greatest joy that we announce the betrothal of our beloved daughter Celebrían to Lord Elrond of Imladris." While everyone was applauding and wishing the couple the best of luck, Thranduil's world fell to pieces. No one saw how he rose and slowly left the table. No one safe Celebrían.

When she had finally been able to excuse herself, she had directly gone to the guest quarters, knocking on the door to Thranduil's chambers. When no one opened, she pushed open the door and found herself confronted with a packing Sinda. "My Lord? Why..." He could not leave, not now!

"I will not stand by and watch you bind yourself to _that_ elf! Have you known it all along? Was I only a final fling?" Hurt shone in his eyes, as well as endless love. "It that is the case, I am very sorry to inform you that you have to find another toy. I will not allow you to play with me any longer!"

_Play_? She had never played with him. "Thranduil," she whispered, slowly approaching the blond, "I would never, never ever do such a thing. When I first met you I felt whole for the first time in my life. As if I had been lacking something without knowing it. No, this is not a mere fling for me." Blue eyes locked with silver, "He will be my husband, but not my bonded. My heart will never be his." Taking a deep breath, she cupped his face in her hands, drawing him closer. "It is, and always will be yours, if you will have it."

Startled, Thranduil gazed down at the enticing creature before him. Did she really mean it? Did she truly want him? In her eyes was no lie, only hope and ... and love. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered, "As mine is yours. Melin chen, Celebrían. Since I first saw you there on the bank." Gently he kissed her forehead, and then, after their gazes had met again, he asked, "Are you certain you wish to be with me like this? You would have to live a lie with Elrond, and only be with me in secret." He dreaded her answer, and hoped for it at the same time.

A blinding smile lit up Celebrían's features, "Naneth spoke of love in his life as well. He will be too busy with his own lover to realise that I am away. Aye, I wish to be with you, no matter what the circumstances might be." Kissing his cheeks, she rested her forehead against his, "Melin chen, Thranduil."


End file.
